Lucy Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by Starsaroundmars
Summary: It's Lucy's first year at Hogwarts and already she's getting along with the enemy and meeting Voyants. Also, Draco's a big brother! Eventual Fem!Harry/Draco, Fred/OC, Cedric/OC, Ron/Hermione, and would anyone like to guess who Rupert ends up with? Rating may go up eventually to T in, like the 4th book. Please give it a chance!
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story and REVIEWS would be appreciated. At first, my story will be very close to the books except for a few obvious differences and additional characters. There will be a love triangle between Fred, Cedric, and the OC. Draco has an adorable little sister who does not act like a proper Pureblood. Ron will eventually not hate Draco (not anytime soon, and I do not promise he will like him). And Lucy and Draco fall in love (Not until possibly the fourth book).**

Luciana Lily Potter sat in her empty compartment on the train leaving for Hogwarts and found that, despite having time to prepare, she was still nervous. She'd tied her long, dark red hair back with her only ribbon and had made sure to keep her school robes clean and hidden away from her dreadful cousin, Dudley

Why can't I live in an orphanage? Lucy thought for what must have been the millionth time in her life. Annie was lucky! I have red hair, I'm an orphan!

Lucy still refused to believe that Petunia was her mother's sister.

Lucy was thinking all of this, just as the door to her compartment slid open and a boy with bright red hair stepped inside. Lucy smiled politely as he looked at her. He must be the younger brother of those boys who'd helped her with her trunk.

"Anyone sitting here?" He asked with a nervous smile. "Everywhere else is full."

At that moment, a boy ran into the compartment behind him and gave Lucy a charming smile before stepping forward and saying. "Hello, Lucy."

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Lucy was sure she hadn't. She would have remembered this boy. He was even smaller than she was but he had the confidence to make up for his lack of height. He had a strange crescent-shaped mark beneath one of his dark blue eyes and his dark hair was long enough to reach his shoulders.

"No," he answered, still smiling as a girl burst into the compartment not even a second later.

"Rupert!" She yelled. "You're not supposed to leave my side! If you're going somewhere-"

And then she noticed that they weren't alone.

"Dreadfully sorry," she said, embarrassed and flushing. "My brother likes to do his own thing but I have to protect him and stay near him. Those were the conditions of his coming to Hogwarts, otherwise our parents would have never allowed it."

"It's perfectly alright," Lucy answered. "You're welcome to sit with us if you'd like."

Rupert turned to look at his sister and nodded before proceeding to sit beside Lucy and staring at her as his sister stood there awkwardly debating what to do. Finally, she stepped forward and extended her hand. "I am Clary Bonnet and this is my brother, Rupert. I apologize for his strange behavior. He's a Voyant."

Ron's eyes widened. Lucy was confused. What was a Voyant?

"Oh," she said, noticing Lucy's expression. "That was rude of me. Are either of you a Muggleborn?"

"Both of my parents were wizards, but I was raised by Muggles. What is a Voyant?"

"Voyants know the future, kind of like Seers except they can't give prophecies to the Ministry. They can't say anything about what they see and they don't only see the future. My brother is the youngest Voyant to have ever developed his abilities. That's why I've been assigned the duty to protect him. It's even easier because we're twins born with an empathy link, so I know exactly when he's in trouble. That's extremely useful, considering he often just wanders off on his own."

"I saw Lucy Potter so I had to come find her," he explained. "Can I see your scar?"

"Rupert!"

"Sure," Lucy said as she pushed away the fringe that covered her scar.

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed. "So you really are Lucy Potter."

"Who did you think she was?" Clarissa asked, trying not to smile.

"I thought my brothers were playing another joke on me," Ron answered, flushing.

"I get it," Clarissa said, nodding. "Rue does the same thing to me all the time. He uses his visions to do pranks."

"I can't tell anyone what's going to happen," Rupert said, digging around in his sister's messenger bag. "That's against the rules."

Ron was still gazing at Lucy in amazement. "So, do you remember anything?" He asked. "About You-Know-Who giving you that scar, I mean."

"Of course not, I was less than a year old," Lucy said. "But sometimes I do think I remember a flash of green light."

"Wow!"

It was then the door to the compartment slid open and Ron's brothers walked in with mischievous grins. "Hey, Ron."

Clarissa took in the two redheads from her seat across from Ron and couldn't help but marvel in the ways the two were so alike as well as different. Even at eleven, Clary prided herself in being very good at reading and judging people. She had to be if she was going to do a decent job of guarding Rupert. Although the twins were identical, the one who'd entered the compartment first was the one who caught her attention. His presence seemed more daring than his twin's and he seemed just a bit more confident in the way he held himself. This was only her first meeting, but from what she could tell they were both up to no good, but the one she would have to watch out for was him.

"Listen we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," Ron mumbled.

Rupert paused in his search through Clary's bag and started to laugh.

"Rupert!" Clary scolded him snatching her bag away from him. "Control yourself!"

"I'm sorry," Rupert said, still laughing. "But if you saw what I just saw, you'd have a laugh, too."

"I know," Clary said rolling her eyes. "You always say that." She tossed him his magazine she'd found in the front pocket.

"Thanks, Clary," Rupert said, opening the Quibbler.

"No problem, just learn to shut your mouth or you'll get us both in trouble."

The twins she'd been observing earlier watched her exchange with Rupert without comment. Finally the seemingly more confident twin spoke, "I don't believe we've met."

He was addressing Clary. She turned to him with a fake smile and said, "No, we haven't. Clary Bonnet, and that's my brother, Rupert. He's a Voyant so please ignore his strange behavior."

"A Voyant," he muttered. "Interesting."

The quieter twin spoke up at last and said, "We're Fred and George Weasley, third years in Gryffindor." They both smiled with pride. "And this is Ron, our brother. We just came to introduce ourselves to Lucy but it was really nice meeting you."

"Yes, it was," Fred said with a grin. "See you later, Lucy, Ron, Rupert," he turned back to Clary, "ma cherie."

Clary fought hard against the angry flush that was threatening to spread across her cheeks but it was a losing battle. He was baiting her and she knew it, but her oncoming fit did not seem liable to go away. Even when Fred and George had already left the compartment she still had her hands clenched into fists.

"Sorry about Fred," Ron said visibly shrinking into his seat at the sight of Clary.

Control, she thought. You can't take care of Rue like this.

She took a few deep breaths and allowed Rupert to take her hand and force the calm back into her through the empathy link. Finally, she felt normal again and sighed. "Sorry about that," she said with a weak smile. "I tend to explode when people tease me like that."

There was an awkward silence.

Lucy was the first to speak. "So, are all your families full of wizards?"

Clary smiled at her gratefully and answered, "Well, Rupert and I were raised separately. I was raised in England by Muggles for five years and I consider them family, but my family of wizards lives in France where Rupert was raised and trained as a Voyant."

"The Bonnets are pretty famous for their long line of Voyants," Ron explained. "They're actually the only Voyants."

"What about you, Ron?" Lucy asked. "Is all of your family wizards?"

"Yeah, I think so," Ron said. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant but we never talk about him."

"So you all must know loads of magic already."

"Not quite," said Clary. "Rupert's been training all summer and I've only been practicing spells to protect him."

"I heard you live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible – not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn't aff– I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window

Rupert and Clary kept silent, not knowing how to comfort the poor boy. Both of them were quite well off and each had brand new wands, robes and owls. Well, actually, only one owl. Their parents had been adamant that they were only allowed to share an owl, because, if they were twins, what was the point in buying two?

Lucy on the other hand understood what Ron was going through perfectly. Petunia had refused to buy her new clothes as soon as she'd grown old enough to need them. Instead, she'd had Vernon trudge up to the attic and brought down a cardboard box full of atrocious summer dresses, blouses that were far too tight and skirts made of some itchy kind of material. Even now, she was wearing one of the summer dresses with an itchy cardigan and shoes that were far too small. She told Ron all of this along with the fact that she'd never gotten a proper birthday present. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort –"

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Lucy.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people –"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Lucy. "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn ... I bet," she added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying her a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

You won't be," Ron and Rupert said simultaneously.

"Rupert! Clary yelled, hitting him on the back of the head. "You know you're not supposed to do that! You could get us both into some serious –"

"Trouble, I know," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "But I was just saying what Ron was going to say. Besides, hints don't hurt. Dad said it himself!"

Clary sighed. He had said that. "Fine. But you can't keep doing this!"

Rupert shrugged and went back to reading his magazine.

"What do you mean I won't?" Lucy asked, turning back to Ron.

"There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past. Clary watched, fascinated. She'd never been anywhere other than the estate in France and her modest home in London. She was always studying protection spells, she'd never had the chance to explore London or Paris. Rupert, on the other hand, continued to read his magazine.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Rupert finally looked up from his magazine and turned to his sister with pleading eyes. He didn't have to. She knew he wanted Pumpkin Pasties. She herself wanted Cauldron Cakes. Lucy, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to her feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Lucy went out into the corridor.

Not wanting to miss anything, she got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron and Clary stared as Lucy brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it on to an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Lucy, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches in there. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Lucy, holding up a pasty. "Go on –"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Lucy, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. "You too, Clary. Grab some for Rupert." It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, Rupert, and Clary, eating their way through all Lucy's pasties and cakes (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

Clary couldn't help but giggle as Ron explained Chocolate Frogs to Lucy and remember the prank she'd pulled on her Muggle guardian over the summer with Rupert.

Lucy unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long crooked nose and flowing silver hair, beard and moustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Lucy.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa – thanks –"

Lucy turned over her card and read:

_Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945,for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Lucy turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day." said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her ... do you want it? You can start collecting."

"I'll trade you one of your Morganas for one of my Agrippas," Clary proposed.

"You're on," Ron nodded with a grin. "But that still leaves me needing Ptolemy."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Lucy. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Clary giggled again as she continued eating her Cauldron Cakes and handed Rupert another pasty and remembered the first time she'd seen a Muggle photo. How did the people in the photos manage to stay so still? There wasn't any magic in it!

Lucy finally tore her eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Lucy. "When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour – you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a bogey-flavoured one once."

"I've never gotten one of those before," Rupert said. "But Clary has."

Clary stuck her tongue out at him. "Only because you gave it to me!"

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh – see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every-Flavour Beans. Lucy got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Lucy had passed on platform nine and three- quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Lucy.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him ..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look ..."

Clary and Lucy watched with interest and Rupert turned the page as Ron rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway –"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then.' She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er – all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?"said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?'

She said all this very fast.

Lucy looked at Ron and Clary and was relieved to see by their stunned faces that they hadn't learnt all the set books off by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Lucy Potter," said Lucy.

'Are you really?' said Hermione. 'I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.

'Am I?' said Lucy, feeling dazed.

'Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me,' said Hermione before turning to Clary. "And you?"

"I'm Clary Bonnet and this is my brother, Rupert," said Clary.

"The Bonnets," Hermione muttered. "I believe I've read about you as well. Your brother is this generation's Voyant, isn't he?"

Rupert opened his mouth to answer himself but Clary beat him to it. "Yes, but please try not to ask him questions, he tends to say more than he really should. More than anyone really needs to know."

"Can he at least answer a question I have about the Ancient Egyptians?"

"Or tell me where my toad is?"

"No!" Clary exclaimed again before Rupert could even open his mouth. "You know better, Rue. Anything that can affect the future –"

"– is not allowed to be said," he finished. "Sorry, Hermione, Neville."

"I understand," Hermione nodded. "Anyway, do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad ... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You all had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon.'

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"Better change your mind soon, Ron," Rupert muttered as his sister dug through their trunks for her robes. "And be careful of what you say around her."

His sister paused to turn and glare at him.

"What? It was a hint."

Ron wasn't paying him any attention anyway as he'd turned back to Lucy who'd asked him what house his brothers were in.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"You know, Slytherin isn't so bad," Rupert interjected. "They're just misunderstood! Like lions! Snakes and lions aren't so different! Both are predators…"

"What are you talking about? Slytherins are downright evil!" Ron exclaimed in shock.

"You're starting to talk nonsense again, Rue. Find your robes."

"Might as well get rid of those old prejudices while we still have the chance," Rupert mumbled turning back to help his sister.

"Just ignore him," Clary told them. "His visions make him a little mad sometimes."

Ron turned back to Lucy.

"That's the house Vol– I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers's whiskers are a bit lighter," said Lucy, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now they've left, anyway?"

Lucy was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles – someone tried to rob a high- security vault."

Lucy stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Lucy turned this over in her mind. At first this whole thing had just felt so unreal. Voldemort had just been a name without any meaning behind. She was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. She supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

What's your Quidditch team?' Ron asked.

'Er – I don't know any,' Lucy confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world –" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Lucy through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered and Lucy recognised the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Lucy with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley. Rupert watched with interest from his seat by the window as his sister continued to look for her own robe.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Lucy Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

'Yes,' said Lucy. She was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing either side of the pale boy they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Lucy was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Lucy.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Lucy's, but Lucy didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," she said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. Your first public rejection from a girl could do that to you.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."

Clary, Lucy and Ron stood up. Ron's face was as red as his hair.

"Say that again," he said.

'Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?' Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Lucy, more bravely than she felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than Clary, her or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached towards the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron – Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle – Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Lucy. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No – I don't believe it – he's gone back to sleep."

Rupert was laughing madly in the corner. "Events are so much better in reality!" He said. "You should've seen their faces!" Once he'd finally calmed down he said, "You know, even though Malfoy was being a prat, Ron started it when he laughed at Malfoy's name."

"What?" Ron yelled. "You're taking his side?"

"No, but it wasn't completely his fault. Lucy humiliated him in front of all of us and you guys were all ready to fight him. He felt threatened so he fought back," Rupert shrugged as Ron continued to glare at him. "Fine, don't listen to me. But if someone doesn't bring him that photo he dropped on his way out, it's only going to get worse."

"I'll –" Clary started to stand up but Rupert held her back.

"You have to stay with me and keep looking for your robes."

Ron didn't look even close to volunteering. Eventually Lucy sighed and picked it up. "I'll do it, I've met him before anyway."

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Lucy explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disap- peared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

Lucy nodded, glad for the extra bit of information and continued on her way to find Malfoy.

He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up the front to ask the driver and he says we're nearly there. None of you have been fighting, have you? You'll all be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Unheard by the others, Rupert muttered, "Ah, the future Mrs. Weasley-Granger."

Meanwhile, Lucy caught up to Malfoy halfway down the corridor, photo clutched in her hand,, careful not to crush in her fist, as she practically thrust in his face. "You left this in our compartment."

Draco took the photo of Cassie back and hoped to Merlin that she hadn't seen it. He gave a signal to Crabbe and Goyle to go back to their compartment on the other end of the train. They gave Potter wary looks before going back to the compartment. Idiots, what could she do to him? She probably didn't even know any magic!

"Did you see the photo?" Draco asked.

"No," Lucy answered stiffly, still angry at him for what he'd said about her parents earlier.

"It's my sister, Cassiopeia," Draco said, surprising even himself. He rarely if ever talked about his younger sister with his "friends." "She still has two years before she has to come to Hogwarts so my father won't let her leave the house."

"Is she like you?"

"No, she can be a bit…rebellious, to put it mildly," Draco said with a small smile. "She disagrees with everything my father says and refuses to follow our mother's rules for how she should act. She climbs trees for the love of Merlin!"

Lucy laughed at the image of a tiny girl in an expensive dress scaling a tree as her caring older brother screams for her to come down.

He showed her the picture. The girl's face was softer than Malfoy's with a carefree smile and big silver eyes surrounded by long dark lashes. Her hair was in long dark curls and her robes appeared to be a very light green. She was sitting in the tree that must've been the one Malfoy was mentioning.

"She wants to be a dancer," Draco continued. "As if my father would let her."

"Why not?" Lucy asked.

Draco gave her a look as if she'd gone around the bend. "Because she has to get married."

And then Lucy understood. It was like a scene from one of those boring Victorian romance novels Mrs. Figg would often discuss with her. The rich had arranged marriages where falling in love didn't matter as long as they had children. They weren't allowed to have any real wants or needs. Lucy almost pitied Draco for what he had to look forward to, but then she remembered his comments from earlier.

Instead she held out her hand. "How about we call a truce? I'll consider being your friend if, by this time next year, you don't do or say anything to hurt me or my friends."

"So, you're giving me a chance then," Draco said, a little startled by her proposition.

"Yes," Lucy nodded with a serious look set on her face but Draco could see from her eyes that she was only partially serious.

They parted ways, smiles on their faces, and Lucy got back to the compartment.

When she entered she saw that Ron was In a foul mood, Clary was still searching for her own robes and Rupert was back to reading his magazine.

"How many times have you searched through that trunk already?" Lucy asked.

"Five, at least," Clary answered, standing up and seeming to finally give up. "I just don't understand. I could swear I –"

"You did. I put it in my trunk when you weren't looking."

She gaped at him for a moment before shutting her trunk in silence and sitting down in Lucy's spot next to Rupert. "I know you did that for a reason, Rue."

"I did. I needed to distract you so that Lucy could go talk to Draco, and you always tell me not to tell you what's going to happen so I did that," Rupert beamed at her as if he expected praise for what he'd done, all the while knowing better.

"No more Pumpkin Pasties for the rest of the term!" declared Clary.

"But that's not fair! you know why I did it," Rupert protested, his face ashen.

"You can handle not having your favorite for a year. Grandmother's training was much worse! Didn't she threaten you with fire spells once?"

"Her favorite dog almost went up in flame," Rupert snorted.

"Bobo?" Clary asked before proceeding to burst out laughing.

"Um," Ron stood there awkwardly watching their exchange. "We have to change now because the train'll be arriving soon so can you go into the next compartment and change with Lucy, Clary?"

"Of course," Clary answered, getting up and giving her brother's ear a tug for good measure. "You're still not allowed to have them."

After Clary had found her robes in her brother's trunk, she and Clary went to find the nearest empty compartment available and changed. Lucy was very happy to be out of her summer dress and cardigan and in her comfortable robes. She looked over her shoulder at Clary only to find that the girl was scowling as she tucked her wand away.

"What's the matter?" Lucy asked.

"Just my brother and his stupid jokes. I know he didn't mean to but…"

Lucy patted her on the shoulder. "I'm sure he'll learn from this. He's a Voyant, I'm sure he did it for a reason."

"I know, but sometimes he goes too far."

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The two girl rejoined the boys in their compartment. Lucy's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, she saw, looked pale under his freckles. Clary and Rupert found themselves clutching each other's hand like when they were younger. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way towards the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Lucy shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and Lucy heard a familiar voice: "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! All right there, Lucy?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark either side of them that Lucy thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!".

The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Lucy and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. They watched Clary and Rupert questioningly as Rupert tugged his sister into the next boat. Clary shrugged back at them. What can you do with a Voyant for a brother?

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of under- ground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.

'Oy, you there! Is this your toad?' said Hagrid, who was check- ing the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**Remember to review. Give me your opinions. Tell me what you think about the pairings. What do you think about Rupert and Clary? What houses do you think each of them will be in? I know there's a troll out there somewhere. Help me with my British English if you see a problem (though there will be a lot of direct quotes from the book at first). HARRY POTTER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the support!**

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Lucy's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big you could have fitted the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Lucy could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Lucy nervously tried to fix her unruly long hair. Clary tried to do something about Rupert's long hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Lucy swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" she asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"Your brother, Fred, is a git," Clary interjected. "It's just a test to see who goes into what house. There's no way it's that big challenge."

Rupert stayed silent.

Lucy's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But she didn't know any magic yet – what on earth would she have to do? She hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she'd need. Lucy tried hard not to listen to her. She'd never been more nervous, never, not even when she'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that she'd somehow turned her teacher's wig blue. She kept her eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead her to her doom.

Then something happened which made her jump about a foot in the air – several people behind her screamed.

"What the –?"

She gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Rue, didn't Dad tell us never to trust a Hufflepuff?" Clary asked.

"Yeah, he said something about an old friend in that house never paying him back."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first-years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Lucy got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron, Clary, and Rupert behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Lucy had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Lucy looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"Know-it-all," Lucy heard Clary murmur. Ron snorted.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Lucy quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Lucy thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing – noticing that everyone in the Hall was now staring at the hat, she stared at it too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Rupert, Clary and Lucy. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"A troll?" Clary hissed. "I told you he was a git! How can you stand him? At least, this isn't so bad."

Lucy smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Lucy didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for her.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Lucy saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Bonnet, Clary!"

Clary turned to her brother for some kind of reassurance. Even though she was putting up a strong front, she felt just as nervous as the other first-years. Instead he said, "Tell the hat to put you in Hufflepuff."

"What?" Clary blinked. She knew that the professor was about to call her name again, but she had to know why her brother was telling her this now. "You can't tell the hat where to put you. And why would I want to be in Hufflepuff?" She wrinkled her nose. "Is this about the –"

"Just do it," he gave her a little shove and stepped back into the crowd of students.

She gave him one of her defiant looks and stepped forward. He shook his head and sighed, already knowing what to expect. Clary never did what you told her to. You can't fight Fate, he thought.

Clary sat down on the stool and put on the hat.

"Ah," the hat started. "I see we've got a clever one here! But it doesn't look like you have the patience to sit down and read a book…You've obviously got a fair bit of loyalty here but mostly towards your brother –"

"Only towards him," she corrected.

"Whoa, definitely a spitfire from what I see here. Plenty of courage and untapped potential… Not enough cunning for Slytherin…"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

You can't fight Fate, he thought again.

Clary gave him one of her triumphant grins as she hurried to join the Gryffindor table. And then she saw Fred. She'd forgotten for a moment that he was in this house. He was holding out a chair for her with a cheeky grin as his twin watched with curiosity. She took an empty chair on the other side of the table instead.

"Bonnet, Rupert!"

Rupert stepped forward but he did not go to the stool. Instead he went to Professor McGonagall and told her that he couldn't wear the hat.

"But why not?" She asked the small boy.

"I'm a Voyant and that hat will be able to see everything, won't it? Besides, I already know what house he'll put me in," Rupert answered. "If it helps, we could just ask it based on what it saw in Clary's head."

She sighed. "Fine."

The small boy walked over to the stool and picked up the hat. "I can't put you on. Grandmother said that I can't take any chances. What do you think from what you saw in Clary's head?"

"You're a very smart boy," the hat started. "I'm sure you already know where I think you should go."

Rupert grinned and turned around before holding the hat up to the crowd as they yelled together.

"RAVENCLAW!"

He joined his house amid yells and applause.

The twins turned to Clary. "Aren't you disappointed?" asked George. "Don't you want your brother in the same house?"

"He already told me we wouldn't be in the same house," Clary shrugged. "I would've known without him telling me. He's the studious one, he has to be as a Voyant. I'm the one who always ends up getting herself into trouble." She turned to Fred. "And you're brother told me what you said to him about the Sorting."

George snickered as Fred flushed a bit under my glare. "It was a joke!"

Clary grinned mischievously and looked at Fred's hair before bursting out laughing. George joined her after seeing what she did. He asked the girl next to him if she had a mirror he could borrow and showed Fred.

"Pink!" Fred yelled. "You turned my hair pink!" His hair was now the colour of pink candy floss.

"I think it suits you."

"How did you do that?" George asked.

"When I'm irritated enough, I can do a little 'accidental' magic. I learned how to control it a bit after I almost hurt Rupert one time, but I can only do small things like this," she grinned at Fred again.

"You're mad! It was just a joke!"

"So was this. And it's better than me hurting you because of my temper."

That made him shut up. He took out his wand and proceeded to try to change his hair back. It only became darker.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Lucy could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling and Clary shaking her head at them, exasperated.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Lucy's imagination, after all she'd heard about Slytherin, but she thought they looked an unpleasant lot. Draco didn't seem all that bad, she thought. Would he really end up in Slytherin?

She found herself hoping he wouldn't.

She was starting to feel definitely sick now. She remembered being picked for teams during sports lessons at her old school. She had always been last to be chosen, not because she was no good or because she was a girl, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked her.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Lucy noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus", the sandy-haired boy next to Lucy in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

Hermione hurried to the table and sat beside Clary. "I believe we met on the train," said Hermione. "Clary Bonnet, right? Your brother is the Voyant."

"Yes," Clary answered, already sensing that this was going to be a long, boring conversation, possibly about Voyants and Seers. She found herself looking to the twins for help.

Fred winked back, pointed at his hair, and mouthed, "Sorry."

Meanwhile, a horrible thought struck Lucy, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if she wasn't chosen at all? What if she just sat there with the hat over her eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off her head and said there had obviously been a mistake and she'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR", Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag".

Draco swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

Lucy noticed him glancing at her on the way to the table and she gave him a weak smile which he returned.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon" ... "Nott" ... 'Parkinson' ... then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" ... then "Perks, Sally-Anne" ... and then, at last –

"Potter, Lucy!"

As Lucy stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Lucy Potter?"

The last thing Lucy saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the Hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting ... So where shall I put you?"

That was a difficult question to answer. She didn't want to be in Slytherin because she didn't think of herself as very cunning and no one at that table looked very friendly. Draco could be my friend soon but what about Ron and Clary? Lucy thought. She was sure that Gryffindor was where she belonged because that was where most of her true friends would be. She found herself imploring the hat not to put her in Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you're sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Lucy heard the hat shout the last word to the whole Hall. She took off the hat and walked shakily towards the Gryffindor table. She was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Clary smiled at her as Lucy sat down beside her and opposite the ghost in the ruff they'd seen earlier. The ghost patted her arm, giving Lucy the sudden, horrible feeling she'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her the thumbs-up. Lucy grinned back. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Lucy recognised him at once from the card she'd got out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole Hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Lucy spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Turpin, Lisa" became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Lucy and Clary crossed their fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Lucy and Clary clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to them.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Lucy as "Zabini, Blaise" was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Lucy looked down at her empty gold plate. She had only just realised how hungry she was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Lucy didn't know whether to laugh or not. Clary wasn't even paying attention anymore. She was busy watching Rupert with a grim look on her face like they were having a telepathic conversation about something serious. For all Lucy knew, they could be.

"Is he – a bit mad?" She asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Lucy?"

Lucy's mouth fell open, seeing the spread of dishes in front of her. Somehow she doubted she'd be able to try everything that night, but she had the rest of the year to enjoy it all. Dudley, the little pig, would definitely be jealous.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Lucy, but she'd never been allowed to eat as much as she liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Lucy really wanted, even if it made him sick. Lucy piled her plate with a bit of everything except the humbugs and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Lucy cut up her steak.

"Can't you –?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy –" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell on to his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back on to his neck, coughed and said, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor have never gone so long without winning. Slytherinhave got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."

Lucy looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Draco who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements. Lucy was caught between pity and amusement when he caught her looking at him and mouthed "help me."

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the puddings appeared. Blocks of ice- cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding ...

As Lucy helped herself to a treacle tart and Clary finally seemed to end her "conversation" with her brother long enough to enjoy a few of the chocolate éclairs, the talk turned to their families.

Seamus Finnigan explained that he was a half-blood and Neville told the story of his first time he used magic. Lucy couldn't help remembering the time she'd made her hair grow after Petunia had cut it so short that it barely fell beneath her ears, uneven and a terrible mess. It was long enough to reach her waist the next morning.

"I was five," Clary told them. "I had a beautiful, antique dollhouse that Grandmother gave me. I wanted to be able to go inside so I made it bigger. Not big enough to go inside, of course, but definitely bigger. Grandmother kept it that way. While I was doing that, Rupert was doing the same thing with his toy car."

On Lucy's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons.

Lucy, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Lucy's eyes – and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Lucy's forehead.

"Ouch!" Lucy clapped a hand to her head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Lucy had got from the teacher's look – a feeling that he didn't like Lucy at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" she asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Lucy watched Snape for a while but Snape didn't look at her again. She found herself thinking that he didn't seem like such an awful person, sad, but not awful. So why had she reacted that way?

"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Lucy laughed, but she was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" she muttered to Percy. How could he say that and not expect someone to be curious enough to go and check it out?

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us Prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Lucy noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Clary rolled her and mumbled, "I just want to get to bed!" Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first-years proceeded to follow the prefects, but before Clary could follow Lucy and perhaps get the chance to wish her brother goodnight, someone grabbed her arm.

"Hold it," Fred said. "You still haven't changed my hair back."

"Fine, whatever," Clary sighed, watching her brother leave as she took out her wand. It would make it easier with a wand since she was too tired to just will it all away. "There, the glamour's off. You're lucky, I know spells to make it permanent."

He shuddered. "Look, I'm sorry,, but it was just a joke! He's my brother and –"

"You don't have to explain, I know," Clary interrupted. "I wasn't really mad about that. I was mad about earlier, on the train. I can hold a grudge for weeks sometimes."

"I think I earned your forgiveness."

"I don't like you," Clary stated, eyes narrowed. "So it isn't that easy."

Fred's eyes widened. "What else did I do?"

And then, somehow, Rupert was there.

"When Clary doesn't like someone, she doesn't usually have a reason," he said. "But I don't think it helps that you called her your "dear one." She hates when people -"

"I don't need you to explain things, Rue. We have to go." She took his hand and ran for the door. "How do I catch up with the other first-years?"

After traveling down endless hallways, climbing numerous stairways, and, let's not forget, meeting Peeves, the poltergeist, the first-years finally found themselves in front of the portrait of a very fat woman just as Clary finally catches up to them.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it – Neville needed a leg up – and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase – they were obviously in one of the towers – they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep-red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.

"Well, that was a great night," declared Clary as she finished brushing out the knots in her hair. "There was a great meal, most of the boys were okay, and I turned Fred's hair pink for a few hours."

Lucy giggled as she remembered the disgusted look on his face whenever anyone asked about it.

"How am I going to survive another four years here with that git around?"

"He's not that bad," Lucy said, a little cautiously. "He and George helped me with my trunk."

"George probably helped more than he did," Clary said, rolling her eyes.

"Aren't you being a little hard on him?"

Clary paused. "Lucy, sometimes Rupert tells me about my future. He's not supposed to, but he does in the most vague ways possible. Last month, he told me this:

'Two boys you meet,

One boy is sweet

But into darkness he falls,

To he, the Veil calls.

The other is rough

But just as tough

Both boys are certainly brave

Who will you save?

For both you long

But you must stay strong

Only one may live

Only one life to give.'

"Do you have any idea what it means?" Lucy asked. "All I understand is that you have to save someone."

"I do," Clary said, groaning. "But I don't want to save anyone! I just want to help Rupert get through school. I want to help him become a Voyant who can keep the secrets of the future without giving hints! I don't want to get involved with anyone."

"How do you know that Fred is one of the two boys your brother was talking about?"

"Rupert gave me two clues. They were both older and they would both approach me themselves. I have no clue who the other boy is, but Fred's the only person who fits all of my brother's hints. Besides, Fred's a git," Clary shrugged. "My brother's always saying that you can't fight or deceive your destiny, so why does he think I can change theirs?"

Lucy shrugged. "Did he ever say anything about me?"

"I can't tell you even if he did," Clary answered.

Lucy nodded tiredly as her eyes drooped closed and she mumbled goodnight. She fell asleep dreaming of strange voices coming from turbans and Draco's face twisted into an expression of desperation. She woke the next morning, remembering none of it.

**Okay, obviously some of the characters need to learn some lessons. Clary wants to concentrate on protecting her brother and no one else (she's also a little prejudiced, but that'll be resolved rather easily once she meets Cedric ;)) Rupert needs to learn how to keep a secret. But they're only eleven, what do you expect? Any suggestions for future chapters? Problems? Please let me know! REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

**This is a pretty short chapter. Please, tell me if I made a mistake. This story will be updated on Sundays but I don't know if I'll be updating this weekly or every two weeks. I should probably do this every week if I have any hope of finishing this before my school year starts.**

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Between the tall kid with the red hair and the girl with her hair in a plait."

"The one with the black ribbon in her hair?"

"Did you see her face?"

"Did you see her scar?"

Whispers followed Lucy from the moment she left her dormitory next day. People queuing outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at her, or doubled back to pass her in the corridors again, staring. Lucy wished they wouldn't, because she was trying to concentrate on finding her way to classes.

"Seriously, how does anyone find their way to class on time in this place! It's ridiculously complicated," Clary groaned.

"At least the greenhouse is easy enough to find," Lucy answered.

"Peeves and Filch aren't making this any easier, though. What I wouldn't do to have Rue's gifts right now."

"Why don't you get your brother to help us?" Ron asked.

"He's sulking a bit right now. He usually does when I don't listen to him." Clary rolled her eyes as she watched him enter the Great Hall. "He knew I wouldn't do it but he still thinks he has the right to be cross with me."

"At least we made it to the Great Hall without getting lost, for once," Lucy said, already scooping some eggs and bacon on her plate. Today, she would have the time to enjoy her meal. "What's on the schedule for today, Ron?"

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron with a scowl. "Snape's Head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," said Lucy. Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor house, but it hadn't stopped her giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

"You're just annoyed that she isn't apart of your fan club like Flitwick," Clary teased her with a grin.

"Shut up," Lucy said with an answering grin. "Or I'll turn your bed into a pig."

They giggled as they remembered their excitement before their first Transfiguration lesson. It might have been a little silly to think that they could change desks into pigs after their first lesson. Apparently, it was even sillier to imagine that they'd be able to transfigure their matches into needles by the end of the lesson. It was the end of their first week of school, and that had been the only bit of real magic they'd learned.

Just then, the post arrived. Lucy had got used to this by now, but it had given her a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages on to their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Lucy anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble her ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note on to Lucy's plate. Lucy tore it open at once.

_Dear Lucy,_ (it said, in a very untidy scrawl)

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig. Hagrid_

Lucy borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled "Yes, please, see you later" on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky that Lucy had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because, despite her optimism, the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to her so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Lucy hadn't got the idea that Professor Snape disliked her. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been right. Snape didn't dislike Lucy – he hated her.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the register, and like Flitwick, he paused at Lucy's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Lucy Potter. Our new – celebrity." Most of the Slytherins sniggered from behind their hands. Draco gave her a sympathetic look from behind Snape. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. Lucy wondered if she'd imagined that terrible sadness she'd seen in their depths.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion- making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Lucy, Clary, and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Lucy caught Draco yawning as if he'd heard this very speech dozens of times.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Lucy glanced at Ron and Clary, who looked as stumped as she was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

I don't know, sir,' said Lucy.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Lucy didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. She tried not to look at Crabbe and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. Draco seemed to be trying to tell her the answer, but she couldn't read lips and he was all the way across the classroom.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Lucy forced herself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. She had looked through her books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect her to remember everything in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Lucy quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Lucy caught Seamus's eye and Seamus winked. Even Draco couldn't stop himself from snorting a bit at that. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter."

Lucy barely stopped herself from saying "Only a point?"

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. We should learn how to do that in the first week! Lucy thought, taking in the spotless floor. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Lucy and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Lucy opened her mouth to argue, but Ron kicked her behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," he muttered. "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

Clary's eyes were wide as she shook her head at Lucy from behind her and Hermione's cauldron.

Draco surreptitiously passed her a note on their way out. _I didn't know the answer to the first question either and he's been trying to get me to memorise that book all summer!_

She caught his eye and mouthed, "Thanks."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Lucy's mind was racing and her spirits were still a little low. She'd lost two points for Gryffindor in her very first week – why did Snape hate her so much? She'd definitely imagined the deep sadness she'd seen that first day!

"Cheer up," said Ron. "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George –"

With good reason, I'm sure," Clary interjected.

"What do you have against my brothers?" asked Ron with a glare.

"Nothing against George or Percy," she answered.

"And Fred?"

"That's none of your business."

"Whatever," Ron rolled his eyes, giving up for now. "Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

"Can I come, too?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Lucy knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang – back."

Hagrid's big hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

Clary gave it a wary look as they entered, making sure to give it a wide berth.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire and in a corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. Still, Clary made sure to stay sure to keep as far away from him as possible.

"This is Ron," Lucy told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes on to a plate. "And the one who can't sit still is Clary."

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the Forest."

The rock cakes almost broke their teeth, but Lucy, Clary, and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Lucy's knee and drooled all over her robes.

Lucy, Clary, and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang some time. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her – Filch puts her up to it."

Lucy told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Lucy not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Lucy couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet her eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot – great with animals."

Lucy wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose.

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Lucy picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

"_But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Lucy remembered Ron telling her on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Lucy. "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Lucy's eyes this time. He grunted and offered her another rock cake. Lucy read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Lucy, Clary and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Lucy thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given her as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Lucy?

**Review and tell me what you think! Problems? Opinions? Compliments? Let me know :) But here's the thing (and so begins my mini rant), if you're going to say something like "your characters are Mary Sues", please, give a good argument. Just saying they're Mary Sues isn't helping me (I know you're not trying to, but at least make an affective complaint). Also, have some clue what a Mary Sue is. I don't think I've made it a secret that my characters have flaws and fears, they are not omnipotent. Yes, Rupert is all seeing, but he's also a brat. They're kids, not super heroes. They will grow and change like everyone else. Just felt I had to say this.**

**Stars**


	4. Chapter 4

"Ugh, I hate flying," Clary mumbled, looking over the notice about the flying lessons.

Ron gaped at her. "How is that even possible?"

"I get broomsick, alright?" she snapped.

"At least you've flown before," Lucy muttered. "I've never used a broom for anything other than sweeping."

"Rupert's never been on a broom," Clary said, trying to comfort her. "Mum's always thought it was too dangerous for him. Guess he's going to have to fly now, though."

"I just wish Malfoy would shut up about all the times he's been on a broom," Ron said.

Draco certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first-years never getting in the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories which always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. Many times, Lucy had caught him glancing at her during some of his more fantastical stories before quickly looking away. He wasn't the only one boasting, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas about football. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Lucy felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book – not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd got out of a library book called Quidditch through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the post, especially Lucy and the other girls who'd heard enough of it before they'd even left for breakfast.

For a few days after Hagrid's note, Lucy hadn't received a single letter, something that Draco had been quick to notice. Draco's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. It wasn't long before Hedwig was sometimes bringing her "mysterious" boxes of sweets.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh ..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "... you've forgotten something ..."

"Why not just buy something that tells you what you've forgotten?" Lucy whispered. "Has that been invented yet?"

"It's not that easy," Clary answered. "Those are a little harder to work with and a lot easier to break. For Neville, this is much safer."

"Plus, those are much more expensive," Ron whispered.

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Blaise Zabini, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Seamus and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Zabini, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Zabini's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Zabini quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with a bored look on his face.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Lucy, Ron, Clary and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps into the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Lucy had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Hearing this, Clary paled and ran out of the room.

"Are you going to be alright?" Lucy asked her.

"I–I'll be fine," she answered, face even paler than earlier. "I went to the Hospital Wing earlier and Madame Pomfrey gave me a potion. But I still don't want to do this."

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Lucy glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Lucy's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Lucy; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground. Clary's didn't even move.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Ron was delighted when she told Draco he'd been doing it wrong for years. Lucy couldn't help grinning, even if she did feel a little bad for the git.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Lucy saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay, face down, on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily towards the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Lucy heard her mutter. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Zabini burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in. But Draco was pale and refused to look at Lucy. The situation had been similar to a certain incident that had happened five years ago.

"Shut up, Zabini," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Zabini, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Zabini," said Lucy quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Zabini smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Lucy yelled, but Zabini had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. He called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Lucy grabbed her broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble."

Lucy ignored her. Blood was pounding in her ears. She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared, air rushed through her hair and her robes whipped out behind her – and in a rush of fierce joy she realised she'd found something she could do without being taught – this was easy, this was wonderful. She pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and admiring whoops from Clary and Ron.

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Zabini in mid-air. Zabini looked stunned.

"Give it here," Lucy called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Zabini, trying to sneer, but looking worried. Lucy knew, somehow, what to do.

She leant forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands and it shot towards Zabini like a javelin. Zabini only just got out of the way in time; Lucy made a sharp about turn and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No one up here to save your neck, Zabini," Lucy called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Zabini.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back towards the ground.

Lucy saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. She leant forward and pointed her broom handle down – next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching – she stretched out her hand – a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently on to the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

"LUCY POTTER!"

Her heart sank faster than she'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running towards them. She got to her feet, trembling.

"Never – in all my time at Hogwarts –"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously," – how dare you – might have broken your neck –"

But I didn't, she thought stubbornly, but stayed silent.

"It wasn't his fault, Professor –"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil –"

"But Zabini –"

"That's enough, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Lucy caught sight of Zabini's triumphant face as she left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode towards the castle. She was going to be expelled, she just knew it. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at her; she had to jog to keep up. Now she'd done it. She hadn't even lasted two weeks. She'd be packing her bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when she turned up on the doorstep?

She could hear Dudley's annoyingly smug voice already, saying something like "Even the freaks don't want you."

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to her. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Lucy trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking her to Dumbledore. She thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps she could be Hagrid's assistant. Her stomach twisted as she imagined it, watching Ron, Clary and the others becoming wizards while she stumped around the grounds, carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Lucy, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on her?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Lucy. So, even he didn't know what was going on, she thought. Was he in trouble, too?

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom which was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face them.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker." Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Lucy nodded silently. She didn't have a clue what was going on, but she didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to her legs.

"She caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch herself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"She's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Lucy and staring at her, making her feel incredibly uncomfortable. "Light – speedy – we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks ..."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Lucy.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

"You're joking."

It was dinner time. Lucy had just finished telling Ron and Clary what had happened when she'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak-and-kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it. Clary just gaped at her.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first-years never – you must be the youngest house player in about –"

"– a century,' said Lucy, shovelling pie into her mouth. She felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

"And you're a girl," Clary finally managed to say. "I can't even manage to climb a broom and you –" she broke off, just shaking her head.

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, now it was his turn to gape at Lucy.

"I start training next week,' said Lucy. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Lucy and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too – Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Lucy, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone unexpected turned up: Draco Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" he asked rather loudly before muttering, "Have to make it look like we don't get along. Are you okay? What happened?"

"You're a lot braver since you've got your little friends with you," said Lucy, playing along. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but it was the best she could think of. "I'm fine and I'm staying. Actually, I'm –"

Clary covered her mouth at the same time Ron grabbed her arm. "You can't tell him," hissed Ron. "He's the enemy!"

Lucy rolled her eyes before pulling Clary hand off of her mouth and shrugging Ron's hand off. "Sorry, I can't tell you. I've been sworn to secrecy. You'll find out eventually."

It was then that Zabini seemed to appear behind him. "Draco, have you challenged them yet?"

"What's he talking about?" Lucy asked.

"He wanted me to challenge you to a wizard's duel at midnight in the Trophy Room." Draco said, no longer meeting her eyes.

"Wands only, no contact. What the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before?" Zabini asked, smirking at her.

"Of course she has," said Ron, wheeling round. "I'm her second, who's yours?"

"Draco," he said.

When Draco and Zabini had gone, Ron and Lucy looked at each other.

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Lucy. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Yeah, what about me? I'm sure I know way more protection spells than you do," huffed Clary.

"That's the problem, Clary, You only know protection spells. Anyway, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Lucy's face, he added quickly, "but people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Zabini'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"No contact, remember?" Clary said.

"Excuse me."

They all looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

"Perish the thought, Ronald," Clary said in a high pitched voice. It was one of her grandmother's favorite English phrases that she'd shared with Lucy and Ron. It was also a private joke between her and Rupert. Rupert told her that she did an excellent impression of their grandmother's snooty, french-accented tone. Ron snorted.

She couldn't help turning to look for Rupert at his table. She found him talking animatedly with some other Ravenclaws. It was times like these that she missed him and hated missing out on his life.

Hermione ignored them and spoke to Lucy.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Zabini were saying –"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"– and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Lucy.

"Goodbye," said Ron.

"Au revoir," Clary said.

it was then that Lucy noticed a note underneath the edge of her plate. _Don't come. _It was signed D. M.

"He's just trying to confuse us," Ron said, dismissing the note entirely.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Lucy thought, as she lay awake much later listening to most of the other girls falling asleep (Clary was staying up with her). Ron had spent all evening giving her advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs Norris, and Lucy felt she was pushing her luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Zabini's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness – this was her big chance to beat Zabini, face to face. She couldn't miss it.

"Half past eleven," Clary muttered at last. "You'd better go meet Ron."

They pulled on their dressing-gowns, picked up their wands and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. Ron joined them and Clary walked them to the portrait hole. They had almost reached it when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them: "I can't believe you're going to do this, Lucy."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink dressing-gown and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!" He turned to Clary. "And You! You were supposed to watch out for her!"

"I did! She was in bed! She must've slipped out while we were looking for our dressing gowns!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped at Ron. "Percy – he's a Prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Lucy couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

"Come on," she said to Ron. She pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose. "Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so –"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

'Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late. Clary, stay and watch her."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve –" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Lucy sharply. "I heard something." It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. "Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours. I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm" asked Lucy.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good – well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later –"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already." Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione, Clary and Neville.

"Hey, don't look at me," Clary shrugged. "You're the on who told me to keep an eye on Granger."

"It doesn't matter. If any of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learnt that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Lucy hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Lucy expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed towards the trophy room.

Zabini and Draco weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Lucy took out her wand in case Zabini leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe they've chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Lucy had only just raised her wand when they heard someone speak – and it wasn't Zabini or Draco.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs Norris. Horror-struck, Lucy waved madly at the other four to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently towards the door away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Lucy mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run – he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Lucy yelled and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Lucy in the lead without any idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him" Lucy panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping her forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I – told – you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest. "I – told – you."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, shut up, Granger," Clary snapped.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Zabini and Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Lucy. "You realise that, don't you? They were never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Zabini and Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Lucy thought she was probably right, but she wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way." snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves – this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!'

Ducking under Peeves they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor, where they slammed into a door – and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door. "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could towards Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Lucy's wand, tapped the lock and whispered, "_Alohomora_!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open – they piled through it, shut it quickly and pressed their ears against it, listening. "Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please'."

"Don't mess me about, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying sing-song voice.

"All right – please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Lucy whispered. "I think we'll be OK – get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Lucy's dressing-gown for the last minute. "What?"

Lucy turned around – and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she'd walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog which filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Lucy knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Lucy groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

They fell backwards – Lucy slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared – all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their dressing-gowns hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout," panted Lucy, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Lucy suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed – or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

'No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

"I'm pretty sure she came of her own free will," Clary mumbled, starting to follow Lucy up the stairs before pausing when she caught sight of someone in the armchair by the fireplace.

"Aren't you coming?" Lucy asked.

"I'll be up in a minute," Clary said. "G'night, Ron."

"See you both tomorrow."

Hermione had given Lucy something else to think about as she climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something ... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide – except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Lucy had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

**I do not own Harry Potter. Please review.**


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